


Can You Hear Me?

by di0zapeeRc



Series: Gifted Trilogy [1]
Category: PVRIS (Band), Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Initially unaccepting mother, Mild Smut, Multi, Poltergeist AU, obvious flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:20:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/di0zapeeRc/pseuds/di0zapeeRc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the 2015 Poltergeist remake.</p><p>Tyler and his family move into a haunted house. Josh is a teacher at Tyler's new school who happens to be an expert on ghosts. The Christian school Tyler goes to turns out to be a lot cooler than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Log 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to stay as close to the movie as possible while still making the story my own. It really helps that Tyler has a sister named Madison and the little girl in the movie is also named Madison. I added a few things, though. Also, my lore is entirely made-up.
> 
> This is also my first posted fic. I hope you guys like it. :)

_“Hello, people of the world! No, that’s stupid. Salutations! Oh, great. I’ve gone from being the alien to being the UFO freak. Hello, internet. Yes. Simple, yet applicable. My name is T…you know what? No, I won’t give you my name. I will tell you why I’m making this log, though. Our house is haunted. I am not even kidding. Weird stuff, guys. Maddie keeps talking to her closet; we keep having these weird power surges. I’m on my second phone since we moved here – which was a week ago. My charger keeps frying it. In fact, most of our electrical appliances are now dead. Except for the TV – that seems to hold out. Both, actually: the one in my room and the one downstairs. Do ghosts like TV?_

_“Anyway, I should probably give you some background. I am logging from Ohio. We moved to this house from our old house in a small town, because my mother got a job coaching basketball. My dad has been coaching in the city for quite some time now, so this isn’t such a big move for him. I, on the other hand, have my first day as the new kid today._

_“Bring on the freak show.”_

 

The thing with being me is that I’m not the friendliest-looking guy out there. I like black a little too much and I’m kind of gawky-looking, but muscled and slim – the latter two are probably the main reasons I play basketball. However, none of these are necessarily the reason I get picked on. No, these reasons are that I am still pretty skinny, despite my musculature, I have a permanent dead look on my face and I also have quite a few tattoos.

So, I’m a target. This doesn’t seem to be any different here, because I’m hardly in the door when some asshole from behind me yells, “Hey, geek stink breath!”

The next second, I’m being swung around and hoisted up against lockers by the front of my shirt.

“Was that a Green Day reference?” I ask the boulder of a guy holding me up.

“What? Shut up. Did I give you permission to speak?” he says, scowling at me.

I roll my eyes at him. This earns me a slam against the lockers, resulting in me banging the back of my head pretty hard against the one combination dial.

“Listen here, you emo freak, we don’t appreciate your sort around here. So, you’d do well to make yourself invisible or we will come after you,” my captor informs me.

“Football, right?” I ask.

His face is a mask of confusion.

“Okay, so we both know your sport of choice doesn’t exactly require you to be light on your feet. Now, me? I play basketball. Being fast and light-footed is what it’s all about. It also requires you to jump, resulting in some pretty killer legs.”

Using his force on my chest as a rotation point, I swing the lower half of my body up and wrap my legs around the arm he’s using to hold me up. Mr. Football is so taken aback by what I’m doing that all he does is gape at me. I pin his arm with my legs, hard, and then twist. He drops me immediately with a yelp and pulls his arm to his chest. I land on my haunches, jarring my knees and ankles a little, but not much.

I dust myself off and leave him clutching his twisted elbow and forearm in pain and confusion.

The front office is a pretty small room and the lady behind the desk is a tad snooty for my liking, but she hands over my class schedule and points me towards my homeroom without too many judgmental glares. I thank her with a smile and she seems to rethink her opinion of me.

Most of the day’s classes slip by without there really being a difference between this school and my old one. Well, except when free period rolls around. I head to the gym and find who I’m looking for immediately. I reckon it’s a universal truth: ALL coaches dress badly. I chuckle to myself as I jog up to Coach… _Hadley?_

“Coach,” I say and hold out my hand.

He takes it skeptically, scrutinizing me.

“My name is Tyler Joseph. I just moved here. I played ball at my old school and I was hoping you’d give me the chance to play for you,” I say in a rush. First encounters – especially ones with people in authority – are one of my biggest fears. I’m always scared I’ll mess up, make a fool of myself.

“What position?” he asks, still scrutinizing.

“Point guard, sir.”

“Well, we already have a pretty good point guard, but we could use a shooter,” the Coach says dismissively.

“Coach, I promise you will not be making a mistake by just giving me a chance. One chance to prove myself?” I plead.

Without missing a beat, the coach yells across the court for someone named Babinski. The kid that comes forward looks like someone I would like to get to know. His hair is a gelled up black Mohawk and he has a gauge retainer in each ear.

“This is Alex Babinski, our current point guard. If you can get a ball past him, you should’ve been on my team years ago,” Coach says.

I nod and then get into position. Alex gives me this creepy, toothy smile before tossing me the ball. I’d like to wipe it off his face.

After about three bounces, Alex takes the ball from me and turns to score. I pick up a bit of momentum and then flatten myself to the court and slip right between his widespread legs. I grab the ball, stunning him, and score. When I turn back to smile at him smugly, his big blue eyes are as wide as dinner plates and he’s looking from me to the coach.

“Again,” Coach says, scowling.

This time I don’t even let him have the ball. I dribble up to him, fake left, fake right, bounce the ball to the left, slip around him on the right side and catch the ball on its second bounce. When I score, I hang onto the basket a little, savoring how it feels under my fingers. Man, I love this game.

Alex and I both look at the coach expectantly now. I also notice that the rest of the players have gathered around us in a loose semi-circle.

“Again!” the coach demands.

“But, Coach…” starts Alex.

“AGAIN.”

So, we dance three more times. Every time Alex puts up a good fight and every time I’m just too fast. Alex is good, but it’s kind of unfair towards him to make me play against him. I grew up with basketball. My dad drilled it into me ever since I could hold a ball. I got good very quickly, then better and then varsity recruiters were scouting me. It’s not Alex’s fault that I keep getting past him. It would have been incredible if he could beat me. Through this, I’m not even bragging. I love basketball and I love playing it, but I really wish it hadn’t dominated so much of my childhood.

“Well, that was ridiculous,” the coach says, looking at the rest of the team.

There are general signs of agreement.

“Babinski, I’m sorry,” he says, giving the kid a sorrowful look.

“Coach, he could win us the league this year,” Alex says and pins me with those big, misty blue eyes again.

“Yes, but what do we do with you? You’re our star player.”

“Owens and I can alternate on shooting guard,” he offers.

The coach looks over to who, I assume, is Owens and Owens nods.

“Welcome to the team, Joseph. Babinski will show you were to get the necessities until your jersey’s been made,” Coach says and promptly walks off-court.

Someone from the stands jumps up to meet the coach and he’s what makes this school so much different to my old one. This guy and Alex share a look. He also has retainers in his ears and his hair also looks shaved on the sides, but he’s dressed much too neatly to be a student and where the cuffs of his sleeves pull up slightly, I see the edges of a tattoo on his right arm. He’s also wearing his neat shirt, bow-tie and suspenders with skinny jeans and purple Vans.

“Hello…? Earth to Tyler?”

A hand waves in front of my face and I jerk back into myself.

“You cool, man?” Alex asks me.

“Um, yeah,” I say, mentally shaking my head to clear it of the cobwebs I feel settling in there. “Who’s the guy talking to Coach?”

“That is Mr. Dun. He’s a university student working here to earn his community service credits. Teaches gym. He’s hot, right?” Alex comments, making me look at him.

I find myself grinning despite myself.

“Hey, man. Not all us Christian kids do our heads in like our parents. If something is beautiful, it should be acknowledged.”

“Agreed,” I say and hold out my hand for him to shake.

“Want me to show you where the school shop is?” he offers.

“That’d be great. Do we practice after school today?” I ask, watching Mr. Dun and Coach leave the gym together.

“Today is Monday. We have team-workshop on Mondays. We meet here in the gym, but we don’t practice. We haggle out strategy, so come with ideas,” Alex explains, leading me to the locker rooms.

I wait by the door while he goes to shower and change, wishing I had a change of clothes here, too. Oh, well. It’s not like I’m here to impress anybody. Except maybe Mr. Dun – him I’d LOVE to impress.

A lot of the guys come to greet me. Owens’ first name is Eldridge and he seems a bit stuck-up, but at least I don’t get the same reaction from him that I got from Mr. Football earlier. The other guys are Craig Wellesley, Wayne Rockford, Sean Rhodes and Kyle Masterson, the alternate. I assume Craig is our center, because he is literally the tallest human-being I have ever seen. I feel like a pip-squeak next to him. He seems very nice, though, so I vow to stay on his good side.

“Ready to go?” Alex asks, materializing at my side.

“Sure,” I say, slightly taken aback by this dude.

Black skinny jeans, flicked up at the ankles; black vans, a grey-scale patterned shirt with a buttoned up collar and short sleeves. His tattoos are on full display and his gauges are back in his ears. Around his neck he wears a black rosary. What is this school?

“Can I help you?” he asks, an amused look on his face.

“Nah, man. I’m just learning so much today,” I say and let him lead me away, smiles on both our faces.


	2. Log 2

_“Hello, internet. Um, you guys asked for proof of this haunting, because apparently my Donnie Darko look must mean I’m making this up. First of all, that is a great movie – my favorite, in fact – and second of all, I don’t really care what you losers think. I’m just doing this in case these things kill us. But, since I should probably keep all ghostly occurrences documented and archived, I will show you the two things that have happened._

_“The first was two days ago. I had come home from school and put my phone down on the dining room table. Then, as I turned my back, I heard a light scraping sound. I turn back and find my phone near the opposite edge of the table. At first I thought it was Jay or Maddie, but they weren’t in the room. So, I picked up my phone and put it back where I had it initially. I turn my back and the same thing happens. This, of course, freaks me out and I call for my mom. I put my phone back in its initial spot again and we watch it, but nothing happens. So, my mom turns to go. Just as she starts turning, though, my phone starts moving. I ask for her phone and I tape it and the next second my phone goes shooting across the table to smash on the opposite wall. That’s my third phone, just so you know._

_“The second thing that happened is something that’s been happening since we got here, but now I actually have visual proof of it. It was late last night and I wanted to go to the kitchen for something to drink._ The thirst knows no limit _. At the top of the stairs, I see flickering lights coming from the den downstairs, which I then gathered must be the TV. So, I go back to my room and grab this little camcorder my dad used to use for taping our games. Down in the den, Maddie was sitting by the TV again, talking to it. It sounded like she was having a conversation with someone, but all I heard was static and the only thing on the screen was white noise. She then reaches out and puts her hand to the screen and a minute later – I_ swear _to_ God _– a hand comes from inside the screen and puts it up against the glass on the other side. I almost dropped the damn camera._

_Anyway, believe me or don’t, I don’t give a crap. Watch the footage for yourselves. Assholes…”_

It’s been a week and things are actually noticeably better here than at my old school. The big difference being I have friends here. Well, A friend. Alex has decided I’m worth hanging out with and he always sits with the team. So, we all sit together. He and I talk about everything: movies, series, books, MUSIC, girls AND guys. As far as I can tell, Alex is bisexual. I reckon he’s figured out I’m gay, though, but doesn’t push me to admit it and I can talk about girls, too. Like, I find them beautiful and even hot – I just can’t imagine myself sleeping with them.

Our favorite point of interest when discussing this topic is Mr. Dun. He eats lunch in the cafeteria with the students, but he always sits alone. He buries his face in his laptop or sits tapping away at his iPad. No matter what he does, though, he ALWAYS looks hot. The best way to describe his style is semi-formal, but I feel like the semi part is only because formalwear isn’t really his scene. He once absently took off his jacket and gave us an eyeful of his tattoo, which I then realized was part of a sleeve. It disappeared underneath the short sleeve of his shirt and my mind toyed with the idea of taking it off to see the rest.

“Yeah, okay, but the best band of the 20th century is obviously the Beatles, right?” Alex says, before taking a sip of his Vitamin Water. He has this bug up his ass about taking care of ‘the vessel your soul resides in’. So, while the rest of us are on Coke and pizza, he opted for Vitamin Water and carrot sticks. I don’t know how this dude has enough muscle mass or energy for basketball.   

“Listen, how gay are you? No, dude. It’s OBVIOUSLY Nirvana. Kurt Cobain shredded and his lyrics were so honest. True rock ‘n roll,” I counter.

“But the Beatles _music_ was out there and so well-orchestrated. Come on. Nirvana was so grungy and emo,” Alex hits back.

“Says the other guy in this school who wears all-black like it’s his job,” I laugh.

“Fine, fine. Let’s agree to disagree, alright?” he says and holds out his hand.

We shake on it.

“So, um, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come over to my house to do homework today? You know, after workshop,” Alex asks nervously.

“You want to unleash me on your family?” I joke.

He smiles and relaxes a little.

“I’d love to, man,” I say. “Let me just text my mom.”

Honestly, my mother’s reaction is to basically force me on these people. She’s just so happy I’ve finally made a friend. I can’t blame her. I think the last friend I had was in pre-school and all we did was crush each other’s sand castles. Or I crushed hers because they were better than mine, but I like to remember the version in which I’m not a jerk. Anyway, Alex and I agree to meet out front after school later.

The period after lunch on Tuesdays is my gym period. I was excused from gym the previous week to have a meeting with the principal who likes to welcome all his new students personally. So, you can imagine how excited I am to get there today.

I don’t even remember changing into my gym clothes. The next minute, I’m just in the gym and Mr. Dun is standing there in a white t-shirt a smidge too tight to be nondescript. I walk over to have my name marked off.

“Now, who are you again?” he asks me, eyes running down the names on his clipboard. “Sorry about this. I’ll get the names eventually.”

“Tyler Joseph,” I say.

This has him looking up.

“You’re the new basketball player,” he says, smiling. “I saw your try-outs. You’re amazing.”

“Now, amazing isn’t the word I’d use. Okay, ‘good’, maybe, but amazing is very…strong…”

“No, dude, I know an amazing ball player when I see one. You’re going to win us the league,” he says and his smile gets even brighter.

Let me paint a mental picture of Mr. Dun’s smile: saying it lights up his entire face is an understatement. It lights up the whole room, the whole world. It’s so bright and his teeth are so white and perfect, it makes my heart hurt just looking at him. It also turns him from a hot-looking guy to a very sweet-looking guy. It makes his eyes almost disappear, but the bits that are visible freaking sparkle. I thought that was something so soppy that it only happens in Nicholas Sparks novels. Up close, I see that he’s also wearing a retainer for his nose-piercing. The dual Band-Aids acting as retainers for his gauges are so dorky, they’re actually cute.

“That’s what everyone keeps saying. So much pressure,” I say, feigning stress.

He chuckles at this.

“So, what are we doing today?” I ask, eyeing the obstacle-course looking thing Mr. Dun has set up.

“You,” he says, raking me up and down with his eyes, “are not doing anything dressed like that. I’m sorry, but school rules say when you wear the school’s name, you have to look respectable. That means covering up your ink.”

“Ah, crap,” I say. I knew this, of course. In my haste to get out here, I must’ve just forgotten to put on my second-skin. “I’m sorry. I knew I was done too quickly.”

“No, I’M sorry. It sucks that I have to be a jerk about this. I have to cover up, too,” he says, tucks his clipboard under his left arm and pushes up the right sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Don’t tell anyone I showed you that.”

I chuckle and he gives me a questioning look.

“You take off your jacket in the cafeteria a lot. We’ve all seen your sleeve,” I inform him.

“Oh, fuck me. I mean, damn,” he says and his eyes do Alex’s dinner plates thing.  

I can’t deal with the look on his face and crack up laughing. It takes him several minutes of my uncontrollable whinnying before he joins in, too. We stand there laughing like old friends for a while before some girl comes over and bats her eyes at Mr. Dun to get off gym claiming ‘lady problems’ as her excuse.

“Mrs. Rossi at the front desk has some painkillers and other stuff for you. I can’t let you off without a note. Sorry,” he says, but doesn’t look it one bit.

She rolls her eyes at him and heads back to her friends. They all take turns glaring at Mr. Dun. He can’t look less bothered.

“Stupid girls,” he mutters under his breath. Then he remembers our conversation. “You, go change. This obstacle-course ought to be peanuts for someone like you, so you can get a good grade, but I can’t grade you looking like that.”

I jog back to the locker-room and pull on just my second-skin, abandoning my shirt with my other stuff. Outside, Mr. Dun has everyone organized into groups of three. I try to join the last group, but, just because I’m me, I make it a group of four. I’ll just go on my own, then.

“I can get two more people to go with you?” Mr. Dun offers.

“No, don’t bother. I’ll be quick,” I say.

When my turn comes around, somewhat unnaturally because these people just decided it’s time to let the lone kid go by himself, I make short work of this thing. I go through it so fast that I get rope-burn on my left forearm and my right inner-thigh – through my gym clothes. No one looks too smug when I finish.

“We have a new speed record: 3 min. 49 s! Tyler, you get the rest of the period free,” Mr. Dun announces, smiling while he makes a note on his clipboard.

I see my new freedom as an opportunity and decide to go keep Mr. Dun company for the duration of the period.

“So, Alex tells me you’re teaching gym for your community service credits. What are you studying?” I ask, hands deep in my pockets while I watch the girl that had tried to ditch gym earlier fall off the monkey bars.

“You won’t believe me if I tell you,” the teacher murmurs as he makes a note on his clipboard.

“Try me.”

Mr. Dun looks up at me, as if to judge my seriousness. I never drop my gaze.

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I study ghosts,” he deadpans.

“You’re right. I don’t believe you,” I say.

“I started off a science major, but when we got to electro-magnetic frequencies and emissions, our professor made a very interesting comment that supposedly spirits emit higher electro-magnetic waves and I decided to make that my thesis. Instead, my research took me to the heart of a department in the university that I did not even know existed and ghosts and spiritual energy and activity are what they live for. I’ve been with them ever since. I’m supposed to be finishing this year,” he shares.

I mull this over for a minute, but then decide to throw caution to the wind.

“So, you know a lot about ghosts and hauntings and stuff?” I ask, tentatively.

He gives me a look, not unlike the disbelieving look I got from Coach Hadley when I first outplayed Alex.

“Quite a bit, yeah. Why?” he wants to know.

With a big sigh, I admit, “Our house is haunted.”

“Whoa. Really?” Mr. Dun asks, entirely abandoning his job of giving each kid a grade and a completion speed.

I tell him about all the weird things that have been happening at the house, leaving Maddie’s little ‘close encounter’ for last. I even add in something I didn’t want to admit, just because it scared the pants off me to think about ghosts in my room at night. I recount how my crucifix moves from my nightstand to my desk every night. I used to think it was my mom, but I put out the camera one night and I SAW it being moved. I even thought I saw a hand carrying it.

“And you’re not just yanking my chain here?” he asks, wide-eyed.

_Why? Do you want me to?_ I think. I say, “Definitely not.”

“Um, okay. Tell you what: I’ll take you home after basketball tomorrow and we can check out your house, okay?” he says. “Wednesdays are the only afternoons I have free.

This causes me to smirk.

“Do you usually invite yourself over to your students’ houses?” I tease.

“If we call it home tutoring, would it make you feel any better?” he counters.

“Absolutely,” I say and full-on smile now.

“Well, then, our private lessons start tomorrow.”

I just catch the mischievous glint in his eye before he refocuses his attention on the other kids.


	3. Log 3

_“Okay, so I may have found a solution. Hi, by the way._

_He’s a teacher at my school, sort of. I mean, he doesn’t actually work there. Like, he doesn’t get payed or anything. Teaches gym. Anyway, he says he can help. Apparently, you can get a degree studying ghosts. That’s some Supernatural shit right there. He’s like Sam.”_

_\- chuckles –_

_“You know what else he and Sam have in common? They’re both hot. Actually, I think he might be hotter, but I could be biased towards his body mods. What I’m definitely biased towards is his smile. I literally go weak in the knees and my chest aches. The things I would do to that man…”_

_\- smiles –_

_“He even invited himself over to my house. He decided we should call it ‘home tutoring’. If that isn’t the kinkiest thing you’ve ever heard, go home. Even Alex smiled like an idiot when I told him._

_"Speaking of which, I have my first game this weekend. Alex and the other guys keep saying I’m gonna win the league for them and, admittedly, that has me a little nervous._

_"The key is to stay cool. So, that’s what you guys should do. Especially concerning the hate you guys post on my videos. I couldn’t fake that stuff if I tried. I play basketball, for goodness’ sake.”_

“You’re in trouble.”

“What?”

“You’re in trouble. Mom’s mad at you,” Maddie enlightens me.

“What for?” I ask and shovel a heaping spoon of cereal into mouth.

“She was listening outside your door this morning. You’re so weird. Why do you talk to yourself?” Jay says upon entering the kitchen. He beelines straight for the fridge.

I swallow hard.

“I… I don’t,” I barely manage.

It’s after we’ve dropped Jay at school that the bomb drops. The car feels like a coffin.

“Tyler, are you gay?” Mom blurts, a vicious scowl on her face.

I don’t respond at first.

“If you are, why wouldn’t you tell us? You’d rather tell strangers on the internet than your own family?”

This pisses me off.

“Maybe because I didn’t want that reaction, Mom. Maybe because you and Dad preach the Bible like it’s law, fact. Now, I’m not saying it isn’t relevant. God knows I’ve been struggling and fighting with myself about this constantly, but you guys aren’t Him and you don’t understand that struggle. All you ever do is tell us God loves us WHEN, or He’ll love us IF. I don’t need your judgment.”

I pointedly cross my arms and stare out the window.

“How long have you known?” she asks quietly, a hint of sadness coloring her tone.

“The day I heard Aunt Kathleen say to you that she and Uncle Casper were worried about how ‘familiar’ Jeremy was getting with the neighbors’ boy. The moment she said all Uncle Casper needed to do was give him a good beating to scare him straight. That’s when I knew I could never tell you, because your response was ‘a firm hand is always best’,” I say, feeling a sick sense of glee when I see a single tear run down her face.

The rest of the drive is conducted in silence, with the two of us refusing to look at each other. I get out at school without saying goodbye.

I spend the rest of the day in a panicked daze. A strong sense of foreboding follows me like a shadow. Would my family even let Mr. Dun in the door? Should I just call the whole thing off with him? What the hell is my dad going to say when my mom tells him? Would they kick me out? What about Maddie and that damn TV?

These questions go around and around in my head, faster and faster. The more I dwell on them, the clearer the mental scenarios I can’t help but sketch become. They’re like a slap in the face. Later they become punches to the gut.

 _Who will comfort Jay and Maddie when my parents pull the Bible on_ them _?_

This sends me over the edge. My vision tunnels and then disappears entirely. My throat closes up and my hearing cuts out. Then, out of the darkness, comes those red eyes. They bore into my soul and take over. I become them until I am reflected back to me and then all I see is these eyes looking out at me from my eye-sockets. Except, the rest of my face is hazy, unfocused. All that remains clear are ruby-like eyes.

_You’re a disappointment._

_Filthy, disgusting human-being._

_Pathetic, terrible excuse for a brother._

_Wake up! Face reality._

The voice is not mine. It’s deeper, what I imagine a demon might sound like. It penetrates every layer of defense I throw up. It resonates in every fibre of my being. I wish I could just die.

“Tyler! TYLER!”

I snap back into myself, the monster dissolving in my mind like smoke. My heart is pounding so hard against my ribcage that it feels like fist falls leaving bruises. My throat feels raw from my labored breathing. When I open my eyes, my vision is spotty. My hearing sounds like when a radio-station comes in and out of focus.

“Tyler?”

The voice belongs to Alex. His big, worried blue eyes are the first things I see. He’s leaning over me, my inhaler in his hand.

“Hey, man,” I croak.

“You’re okay!” the relief emanating from him is palpable.

“Um, yeah. Sorry about that,” I say and move to sit up.

Alex moves back, too, and ends up sitting on his knees across from me. Around us, the whole class is staring. Mr. Dabney, our math teacher, looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“How’d you know about my inhaler?” I ask Alex.

“You were struggling to breathe, so I kind of figured you’d have one.”

“Could you maybe help me up? I need to go to the bathroom,” I ask.

Alex looks at Mr. Dabney for consent and he nods at us.

Out in the hall, I lean heavily on Alex. My legs are refusing to cooperate and I keep getting dizzy. All I want is to lie down; flat on the ground until the world stops spinning. He puts my one arm around his shoulders and holds it there with his left hand. His right arm he puts around my waist and pulls me close to him. We move like that to the bathroom.

“Was it…bad when I blacked out?” I ask him around shallow breaths.

“Unless you usually show classic signs of demonic possession, then yeah. It was bad,” he says, his voice cracking, but I don’t know if it’s because of what he saw me do or my weight. “You were talking crazy, man. Also, your voice got all deep and weird. You were also jerking around like you were fighting something. Is everything okay? Do we need to call your mom or something?”

“NO. I mean, it’s probably not a good idea,” I say as panic twists my gut again.

“Is everything okay at home?” Alex asks and helps me to lean against the basin.

I wash my face a couple times before I tell him. When I do, he looks scared for me.

“Do your parents know about you?” I ask carefully.

“Dude, my parents are Buddhists. The craziest, scariest thing I could do was come to a Christian school. They don’t really care, other than to remind me ‘my Bible’ and ‘my God’ have rules against homosexuality and that should be enough reason for me to convert to Buddhism,” he explains.

“Great,” I mutter.

“Listen, if worse comes to worst, you’re welcome to come crash at ours until you can make another plan,” he offers, his hand on my arm.

“Thank you, Alex,” I say and then the tears come.

He pulls me to him and lets me cry on his shoulder. It feels like we stand there for hours, but really it’s just for the rest of math. With every fresh gush of tears, my anxiety leaves more and more. Instead, it’s replaced by anger. How I feel, what I went through today because of my parents, is not fair. I don’t feel any less loved by God. In fact, He is such a reassuring presence just then, that my crying starts to dry up.

Mr. Football catches me hugging Alex.

“Faggots,” he spits at us.

“You wanna wrestle again, baby?” I ask and fake checking him out.

“Just stay away from me, freak,” he says in a rush and promptly leaves the bathroom without doing anything.

“Again?” asks Alex and cocks an eyebrow at me.

I tell him the story as we walk back to the math classroom to get our bags. We fist-bump at the end. By the time I get to History, I actually have a pretty good feeling about this afternoon.

Needless to say, I wish the rest of the day away. Alex also argues that I should take the afternoon off practice to recuperate fully for our game this weekend, but I decline. I’ll feel better prepared if I practice.

I almost don’t shower, I’m so eager to get outside after practice. My fear of putting Mr. Dun off with my B.O, however, has me actually taking a little extra care when cleaning up. Outside, where I expect to see a car, I find a motorcycle – a very nice motorcycle. Matte black and on the big side, its body sleek and super aerodynamic-looking.

Leaning against its side, fiddling with a weird little black pad with a small protrusion on the top, is Mr. Dun in a black leather jacket. The sleeves are rolled up slightly, revealing muscular forearms the perfect shade of marble to be set-off by the black. It also hugs his shoulders so gorgeously that the damn thing looks taylor-made. I slip my loose-hanging bag strap onto my shoulder, too, and walk up to him.

“What exactly is that?” I ask, eyeing the device in his hand.

“Oh, hey. This,” he says, holding it up, “ is an EMF-meter, or an electromagnetic frequency meter. You ready?”

“Yeah,” I say.

He hands me a helmet off the seat of the bike. It’s this bright sky-blue. His is blood-red. He lets me get on first and then gets on in front of me. He zips up his jacket and then helps me wrap my arms around his waist so they aren’t too constricting, but still safe. Then we’re off.

I’ve never been on a motorbike before and the initial pull-away jolt is something to get used to. I cling to Mr. Dun a little tighter, imagining I can feel the muscles beneath his clothes. The houses and things around us blur by. I guide him by basically yelling near his ear. Too soon for my liking, my house looms up. If I was nervous before, I’m not now. I dismount the bike confidently.

“Is this your first time?” Mr. Dun asks.

I stare at him.

“On a bike,” he amends, grinning.

“Oh,” I say, fighting the blush threatening to creep into my face. “Yeah.”

“Well, kudos for not vomiting. _That_ is a super-bike and I went pretty fast,” he says, unstrapping his helmet.

“Trying to scare me?” I ask, following suit.

“Yes. Had to see if you were cut out for our mission,” he says superiorly.

“Whatever. I spit on fear,” I say and lead the way inside.

Inside, Jay is the first one we see. He gives Mr. Dun a thorough once-over before calling, “Mom! Tyler’s home and he brought a friend!”

She comes from the kitchen and holds out her hand, smiling politely.

“Good day, Mrs. Joseph. My name is Josh Dun. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Dun says, shaking her hand.

Her face falls a little until she catches sight of my expression and then the polite expression is back, flawlessly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Josh. Tyler mentioned you can help with our little ghost problem?” without letting him respond, she continues, “I wouldn’t say it’s _ghosts_ necessarily. I mean, there’s no such thing. An electrical problem is what it probably is. You’re welcome to stay for lunch, but we don’t want to waste your time.”

I have to refrain with great difficulty from going to bash my head repeatedly against a wall. I opt for glaring at her instead.

As if picking up on the vibe between me and my mother exactly, Mr. Dun, the picture of friendliness, says “I actually have the afternoon free and I’m a bit of an expert in these matters. If it isn’t a ghost, I’ll find out and be out of your hair as soon as possible. I’m sure Tyler can show me around the house.”

“Of course,” my mother says, her polite smile growing tight at the corners.

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“We can start upstairs,” I say and pull him along by the sleeve.

We decide to work our way forward from the back of the hall. So, we start with my parents’ room. He shuts the door behind us and slowly moves through the room, his EMF-meter held aloft. It makes soft ticking noises, becoming louder and more frequent in certain areas.

As he works, he asks me, “So, does your mother want me gone because of her general disbelief or is something else up?”

“Why would you think she wanted you gone? Didn’t you feel so welcome by the way she all but pushed you back out the door?” I bristle.

“Totally.”

“She and I had a fight this morning. Things are a little tense between us at the moment,” I answer vaguely.

“You are forgetting something,” Mr. Dun says.

“Which is?”

“My keen powers of observation. Am I right in assuming her problem is with me?” he asks as he opens my parents’ closets.

“It’s a little more complicated than that…”

“I also gathered that much. Listen, if you’d rather not tell me, I get it. Just answer me this: is she going to be a problem?” he asks, pinning me with an onyx stare.

I think about this for a moment.

Finally, I answer, “No.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, walking back over to me and the door.

“Positive,” I answer without missing a beat.

When he gets about four inches away from me, he stops dead and looks into my eyes, frowning. He reaches out, entranced, and takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. Where he touches, bright sparks skate across my skin and down my nerves. Turning my head this way and that only makes his frown deepen.

“Ty, tell me, these things you just _know_ , how often are they right?” he asks, dropping his hand.

This knocks me for a loop.

“Mostly,” I splutter.

“Mostly or always?” he asks.

What comes to my mind then is all the basketball games I’ve ever played. As far as I can remember, my feelings about the outcomes have always been right. I just _knew_ who would win or when we’d draw, before we even started playing. I’ve always told myself I just have a knack for reading the game, but even someone who lives, breathes, eats and sleeps basketball can’t be exactly right all the time.

“Always,” I say before I’m entirely conscious of it.

“I think you have a gift, Tyler. You’re clairvoyant. Are you wearing any metal?”

“Um, yeah. My crucifix,” I say and pull the chain out from under my shirt.

“Could you maybe take it off and set it aside for me?” he requests.

I do as he asks and then he’s pointing the EMF-meter at me. The ticking goes nuts and the screen lights up like a Christmas tree. Mr. Dun doesn’t look surprised by this. He turns it off and puts it down next to my crucifix. He motions for me to follow him and we head for my parents’ ensuite.

There, he positions me in front of the mirror and moves to stand behind me.

“Look at your eyes. What do you see?” he asks.

All I see is my eyes: boring brown with that small defect in each iris in the right ‘corner’, a small purple fleck. The doctor said it’s just a pigmentation mutation. Nothing too uncommon.

“Just my eyes,” I say, straightening up.

“You know what heterochromia is, right?” he asks and I nod. “You know how big a percentile of heterochromics have unnaturally colored mutations?”

I shake my head.

“Two percent. You know what percentile of those heterochromics have purple mutations? Twenty-five percent. Exactly 0.5% of the world’s heterochromics have what you have. That percentile shrinks considerably when you measure it against the world’s population. Not all of them are as gifted as you are, but those purple flecks are living ectoplasm. Ghosts produce black ectoplasm, ghouls green and poltergeists clear. Call it what you want, clairvoyance or the Gift of Prophecy, you have it and you have it bad. Dr. Gunnulfsen is gonna freak,” he says excitedly. “It also means you have to go wait out in the yard. The EMF is gonna go off wherever you are.”

I, too stunned to speak, comply in a daze. I feel my mother and the kids’ eyes on me as I head out the door, but barely. I go sit out on the sidewalk. I’m suddenly too hot and the red beanie on my head makes me itch. I pull it of and cast it aside. My thoughts are racing at a dizzying speed and I feel dangerous close to blacking out again. I take a deep breath and jerk my crazy mind to a halt.

_Well, if you can get behind ghosts, powers or gifts or whatever shouldn’t be too tough to swallow._

And that’s that.

If only it were always that easy to control.

Mr. Dun joins me on the sidewalk half an hour later. He gives me an apologetic look, but I smile back. This is cool. Who else can say they can predict the future?

“So, the good news is it’s not ghosts,” he says. “The bad news is it’s much, much worse.”

“Oh, great. Well, as long as it’s not ghosts,” I vent.

“Also, you’re not the only gifted one in your family,” Mr. Dun starts.

“Maddie?”

“Maddie. I think the reason the ‘door’, if you will, to these things is in her room, is because she can talk to them. She’s a medium,” he explains. “Also extremely strong and she also threw off my readings a little, but I got Jay to take her outside. Your mother wasn’t too happy with my findings.”

“At this stage, I really couldn’t give a _fuck_ about my mother’s happiness, to be honest,” I say and he chuckles. I join him.

“Would it be cool if I came back tomorrow with more tech to do a better assessment? Maybe pinpoint exactly what we’re dealing with?” Mr. Dun asks hesitantly.

“More home tutoring, Mr. Dun?” I ask, innocently.

This makes him laugh.

“I feel we really made headway today. Tomorrow might be just what you need,” he says and I swear I hear a hint of suggestion in his voice. “Also, you can call me Josh.”

“Isn’t that, um, inappropriate?” I ask.

“Well, no. I probably won’t be your teacher anymore if this pans out,” he says. “Plus, and you can’t tell anyone this: I’m seventeen.”

I suck in a breath so hard, I go into a coughing fit.

“How?” I demand, eyes streaming.

“I finished high school when I was thirteen. I’m kind of a nerd,” he admits, sheepishly.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He gives me a look I can’t quite place.

“Because I like you,” he says simply.

“Does this have anything to do with my gift or whatever?” I ask, hating myself.

“I thought your eyes were beautiful before I noticed the purple. You’re just…different, Ty,” he says, dreamily.

“So are you,” I say with a grin. “You’re the only person I know who calls me Ty.”

He smiles at this and we sit for a moment just smiling at each other.

When he leaves, it’s almost reluctantly. He promises to see me at school tomorrow, though. I stand in the street, watching the spot where his bike disappeared around a corner for a long time.

 

That night, I’m wrenched awake from a very hot dream involving Josh and I on a desk in the principal’s office by a scream.

“MADDIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!”

I’m out of bed in a flash, grabbing the camcorder as I go. Out in the hall, Mom and Dad look like the End Times are upon us. We rush to where we can hear Jay still screaming Maddie’s name.

Of course we find him in front of the TV.

“Tyler, are you _filming_ this?” my mother scowls.

“You know what, Mom? That scowl you constantly put on just for me lately really isn’t becoming. It’s to help Josh with his investigation,” I say without thinking.

“So, it’s ‘Josh’ now? I thought he was your teacher,” she says and moodily crosses her arms.

“Can we please focus here? There really are more dire matters on this earth than what Tyler calls his boyfriend,” my dad yells from the perch he’s taken on his knees by the TV.

Mom and I both stare at the back of his head for a full minute before moving.

I kneel next to Dad, pointing the camera at the screen and joining them all in calling for Maddie. We sit there for a full ten minutes with nothing happening, by which time both Mom and Dad are crying. For some reason, Jay can’t stop screaming. His shrill voice rises above all of ours when he calls for her.

Just as we’re all about to head back to our rooms, the static quietens down and a little voice pipes up.

“Mommy? Can you hear me?”

“Oh my God, Maddie, yes, I can hear you, baby!” my mom says and drops back down to her knees, pressing her hand against the screen.  

The sound falters for a moment.

Then, “Mommy, I h-ave to help-p them. They need to go i-nto the light, bu-ut they can’t find it withou-out me.”

“Who are they, Maddie? Who are you helping?” Mom sobs, her hand still jammed to the screen.

“M-my friends.”

A second before the static comes back, a small, dark hand presses itself to my mom’s through the screen.


	4. Log 4

_“My sister’s been taken.”_

_\- rolls footage –_

I’m not actually supposed to be at school today. The only reason I’m here is to find Josh. I have no other way of reaching him. I basically crash into Alex at the entrance, but brush him off with a quick “I’ll text you”. I then break into a sprint like I never have before.

Bursting through the gym’s doors, I manage to gain the attention of the entire senior class. This is SO how I imagined today starting. Then my eyes come to rest on him and my jaw literally drops.

He’s wearing all-black, but his shirt is on of those torn-down-at-the-sides tank tops and his pants look like soccer shorts. His sneakers are also black and his socks are pulled up his shins. Finally, he’s wearing a black and white patterned snap-back over emerald green bangs and dark sides. His gauges, bright red, are back in his ears along with the silver hugger in his nose. I can also finally see all of his tattoo-sleeve and it’s as gorgeous as I imagined.

“Sorry, guys. Could you excuse me for just a minute. Talk amongst yourselves. No screwing while I’m gone,” he says, dropping his teacher voice.

“Uuuuhhhhh,” I say, intelligently.

“Pretty much the principal’s reaction, too,” he says, looking amused.

“Am I allowed to say you look hot?” I find my wits.

He shakes his head like he’s contemplating.

“Eeehhhh, only if I’m allowed to say it back,” he says, giving me a sexy smile.

“Maddie’s been taken,” I blurt.

“I’ll call Dr. Gunn immediately,” Josh says without missing a beat.

He whips his phone out of his pocket while I stand around anxiously. I see the seniors talking casually, carefree. Even before moving here, I’ve never known what that’s like. Alex is literally the first friend I’ve ever made since I started school. I’ve always just felt so different to everyone else. I don’t see the world the way they do or feel things the way they do. I think too much and live in my own head too much. It’s made me pretty self-absorbed. Now I have a friend who literally saved my life in the middle of math and a guy who actually looks like he wants to date me. I thank God for them both.

“Brian? No, I need to talk to Lynn. Please? It’s an emergency,” Josh pleads. “I…Baby, come on. We can talk about this later. It’s literally a life or death situation. Pl… Thanks.

“Lynn, hi. Um, you know the case I went to look into yesterday? Yeah, the little girl – ah-ha, the medium – she’s been taken. Okay. I’ll come in immediately. Thanks, Lynn.”

He catches sight of me as he moves to put his phone back in his pocket. The murderous look on my face must’ve tipped him off, because his hand just hangs there, suspended in mid-air, with his phone in it.

“I’ll see you at the house,” I say, turn and storm out of the gym.

_What the FUCK, Josh?_

“Tyler! Ty! Wait!”

His voice echoes in the empty hallway.

“Don’t you ‘Ty’ me, you asshole. The only reason I’m not wasting you right now is that we need Maddie back and you are the only one I know who can help. I can’t BELIEVE I was so stupid!” I fume.

“No, please. Just li–”

“Why? Why the hell should I believe a single word that comes out of your mouth, Josh Dun?”

“Because I genuinely like you, Tyler. Okay, Brian and I, we aren’t happy. Or I’m not. Since the day he met me, he’s made it his mission to turn me into the little college boy he can take home to his parents. He never liked my hair or my mods or even the way I spoke. You know what he said to me when I walked out of the bathroom this morning? “Guess I’ll have to fix you up again”. Honestly, the only reason I even started dating him was because I was so low that I thought I deserved it.

“You see, that look your mother gave you when I introduced myself yesterday is one I am all too familiar with. My family are Christian, too. So, here comes their little golden boy who finished high school before puberty and he decides to trade in his degree in cosmology for a degree in spectral occurrences AND he tells them he’s gay. Brian, with all his decency and snootiness, suddenly seems like the perfect compromise. At least my parents now tell their friends that I’ve ‘normalized’ and ‘work for the university’.

“Then, I met you. You walked over to me like I was the only person in the world you wanted to impress. You’re charming and sweet – not to mention the single hottest guy I’ve ever met. You care about ME and like me for who I am. Being with you feels so right that I don’t care if I never make a good impression on anyone else ever again. My parents and their friends can shove it.

“I guess, what I’m really speeching about here, is I’m sorry. I would never use you. I’m a fool for you, Tyler Joseph.”

I literally have to muster every ounce of strength I have to keep my knees from giving out at that swoony, puppy dog look on his face.  

“So, Brian, he’s an asshole?” I ask, stepping closer to Josh.

“Brian’s a bitch,” he spits venomously. “Why? Planning on fighting him for my affections?”

Then I’m on him. My mouth moves lightly, lingeringly, liquid against his, my hand cupping the back of his head. At first he seems to melt a little, but then he’s kissing me back and it becomes considerably harder to stay upright.

“If by ‘fighting’ you mean utterly pulverizing, then yes.”

I leave him standing there and jog back to my mom’s car.

 

At home, the household panic is in full swing. Mom is baking cookies like a crazy person, Dad is sitting in his armchair and staring at the TV like the sheer force of his will can make Maddie materialize there, and Jay is outside flying his model remote-controlled space-cruiser around, flooring it until it almost hits a wall.

“Is Josh gonna help?” he wants to know when I open the front door.

“He’s going to try his best,” I say and ruffle his hair.

I’m suddenly starving, what with having skipped breakfast, and head into the kitchen, hoping for a finished batch of cookies. Mom sees me and glares at me. I frown at her until I realize I must look pretty freaking relaxed. I feel relaxed. Is this my clairvoyance or whatever telling me everything is going to be okay? I don’t know, but for whatever reason, I feel chilled enough to scarf down 5 cookies and two glasses of milk.

“Save some for the, er, guests,” Mom snaps.

I retreat back to the front door just as Jay opens it and calls that Josh is here. Obviously, I immediately scrutinize Brian. I’m a little thrown by what I see. He’s all muscle and tanned and dressed in a suit and tie. So is Josh, for that matter. Dr. Gunnulfsen looks a little like Wednesday Addams – except for two clean shaven patches on either side of her head and the metal gauges in her ears – and I snicker at this to myself. Brian also has an adorable face: freckles across his cheeks and nose and light, bright brown eyes.

“Hey, man.”          

“Hey, Alex.”

Then it hits me.

“Wait, what the hell are you doing here?” I ask, taking in his mischievous grin with a little horror. I don’t want to be responsible for his death. However, I still feel calm. It’s like I knew Alex was coming. “Wait, you saw me and Josh.”

I don’t know how I know this, but I know I’m right.

“I did. That was some kiss, man. He was in a daze all the way to his office. Until,” a hint of bitterness creeps in his voice, then, “he had to kiss Brian.”

“No, man, it’s cool. Josh and I had a talk. He’s not into Brian anymore. He never was.”

“Why _not_? He’s so ripped. And those freckles? I die,” Alex gushes.

It doesn’t take long for the cogs in my head to turn on that one.

“Then, you have him. He’s all yours. Just, Josh says he’s a manipulative bitch, so be careful,” I warn.

“Josh is just too easily manipulated. All Brian needs is for someone to show him who’s boss,” he says and then walks up to Brian to ‘offer help’.

_Alex Babinski, you dog._

“Okay, so, we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with yet,” Dr. Gunnulfsen starts and we all gather around her and Josh and Brian. “We do, however, have equipment that can work this out for us. We just need to do a quick scan of the house – and by ‘quick’ I mean it should take us around half an hour minimum. You all can wait here in the living room. Except for…Tyler…”

She looks around the room until I raise my hand.

“You have to go wait across the street at least, please. Josh described you as fully clairvoyant, thus the ectoplasm in your body will disrupt our instruments.”

“I’m sorry,” my mother interjects. “What did you just call my son?”

Dr. Gunnulfsen cocks her one eyebrow at me questioningly. I look at my shoes.

“A clairvoyant, Mrs. Joseph. You’re Christian, so you can think of it as the Gift of Prophecy and Knowing. He sees the future in all its detail,” the doctor explains.

This earns me a collective head-turn in my direction.

“How long have you known?”

“Tyler, that’s so cool!”

My mother and Jay speak at the same time.

“Since yesterday and it is pretty rad, yes,” I answer them both. “Also, Maddie is a medium.”

This earns the doctor a collective head-turn.

Josh is the one who speaks, “A pretty strong one. That’s why these spirits chose her to help them pass on. If you don’t like ‘medium’, the Gift of Seeing works, too. Being as strong as she is, she should be able to see angels and demons, too.”

My dad drops his glass of milk.

Before the silence can stretch into awkwardness, Josh and his team get to work and I am shooed out the door. As I leave, I hear who I assume is Brian asking my parents and Jay to help. I love how I’m the one with the gift, but I’m the burden in this situation. My neighbor even glares at me when I sit down on the sidewalk in front of his house.

The half-hour stretches on into an hour and my phone – the fourth one – dies from excessive Vine-watching. Speaking of which, my neighbor really should put a password on his wifi. Or maybe he shouldn’t. After ten solid minutes of just staring at the front door, it finally swings open and I have a split second to wonder whether I’m not also telekinetic before Josh walks out and heads over to me.

“What’s the verdict?” I ask, squinting up at him. It’s an overcast day and the sun is glaring off the clouds.

“Well, the good news is we have a plan, thanks to your dad,” he starts.

“I love how you always give me the good news first. It’s not like the bad news after doesn’t seem twice as bad then or anything,” I say.

He grins, but otherwise ignores me.

“The bad news is that it’s the worst kind of bad you can get with spirits: you have poltergeists, dude.”

“Poltergeist _s_ , plural? Let me guess: they’re nothing like Peeves, the endearingly mischievous Hogwarts castle poltergeist?” I say and get up.

“’Fraid not, but, like I said, we have a plan. You are part of this plan. In fact, you are what the plan hinges on,” Josh explains.

“LOVE being the plan-hinge.”

Chuckling, he continues, “How do you feel? About this situation with Maddie, I mean. Do you sense anything about it?”

“I feel super chilled about it, actually. We’re gonna get her back. You guys found a way out, right?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, we did. We now need someone to go in after her, but it can’t be you. So, we thought Jay. What I need from you is to see if we need anything else? You say our plan will work, but that can only happen if we have all the variables sorted.”

“But if it’s the future, won’t you guys come to the right conclusion by yourselves, anyway?” I ask, confused.

“Probably one of us already has, but it carries a little more officiation coming from you,” he says and winks at me.

“Because Dr. Gunnulfsen knew what was up the moment she walked in,” the words roll out of my mouth without my consent.

This causes Josh to look at me both surprised and encouraging at the same time.

Going with whatever this new idea is that my brain is forming of its own accord, I say, “You need to call… Alexa San Roman. The doctor knows her.”

“We all know her. She’s Lynn’s ex,” Josh says, frowning. “She kind of does what we do, but she’s a medium, too. Not as strong as Maddie, but strong enough to have a 95% success rate.”

“Holy… Is she _that_ Alexa San Roman? The one with the TV-show?” I ask.

Josh nods.

“Ugh, I LOVE that show. Are we gonna be on TV?” I ask as it dawns on me.

“Your parents probably wouldn’t be overly fond of that idea,” he says.

“True. Anyway, she’s necessary. We need someone who can placate the spirits from this side,” I explain like I have all the experience in the world in this.

“Makes sense,” Josh agrees, unruffled. “Also, you can come back inside now. Everything is stable and zoned in on the poltergeists. You should cause only minimal interference.”

I follow him back inside.

“Hey, Lynn? Tyler figures you already know this, but you have to call Alexa,” Josh calls from the door.

“I really hoped he wouldn’t say that.”

In the lounge, Alex is sitting almost on top of Brian to talk to him. Brian didn’t seem to mind, until he sees Josh and puts about a foot of space between him and Alex. Josh looks unfazed. Jay is fiddling with his rocket on the carpet. Mom and Dad are sitting on the couch, with Dad absently petting Mom’s hair as she worries the hem of the sleeve of her sweater. In his other hand he’s clutching a hammer. Lynn leaves the room, her phone jammed to her ear.

“Hey, Dad. What’s with the hammer?” I ask, going over to lean against the wall.

He gives me a blank look before continuing to stare equally blankly at the carpet.

“He took it to the back of Maddie’s closet when we told him that’s the entrance to where the poltergeists are. It went in and came out there,” Josh explains in a whisper, having followed me to my perch, and points to a spot on the ceiling that looks like it’s been scorched. Covering it is this jelly-looking clear fluid.

_Ectoplasm._

“What a great time to lose your cool,” I mutter to Josh and he grins at me.

“Alexa will be here in an hour,” the doctor announces as she strolls back into the room. “Oh, goodie…”

“I take it things didn’t end well?” I whisper to Josh.

“At all. Alexa almost died during a cleansing once and Lynn begged her to give it up and come work in the department with us, but Alexa wouldn’t hear it. The only way to get Lynn to stop stressing and for Alexa to continue what she does, was for the two of them to split,” Josh recounts.

“Well, I am going to get everyone some snacks,” I announce and head for the kitchen.

“I’ll help,” says Josh to no one in particular.

We’re hardly through the door before Josh drags me along to the pantry. I let him pull me inside and press me up against the shelves in the dark.

“Frisking me in a dark pantry? Nice,” I murmur before he kisses me.

Our mouths move together like water. Every single time he presses his lips to mine, a surge of white-hot electricity passes through my body. I’ve never experienced something so intense. My knees buckle with the force of it when his hands slip under my shirt. I follow suit, undoing the buttons on his smoothly, and then both our shirts are on the floor. I almost die when he leaves a trail of light kisses down my neck. Near my jugular, his teeth knick me and a low moan escapes my throat. His chest vibrates against me as he laughs quietly. He finds the spot on my neck again and bites it. I moan so loudly this time that I clap a hand over my mouth to keep the sound from traveling. With my other hand, I knot my fingers into the hair on the back of his head and force him further into my skin. This time, when he bites, he also grabs the front of my pants, hard. I can’t even manage a moan, instead I whimper weakly.

He continues to feel up the front of my jeans as he speaks against my mouth.

“You have a kink.”

“A…ah, fuck…a what?” I breathe.

“A kink. You like when I bite you,” he says and tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth, laughing again.

I whimper in response.

“Do you think anyone will miss us for a few minutes longer while I take care of _this_?” Josh asks and grabs me again.

“Uuuhhhhhh…”

I feel myself dig my nails into his back in an almost detached way. All that feels real to me right now is him squeezing me harder and harder. The harder he squeezes, the stronger the jolt of pleasure that shoots through me is. It’s almost hypnotic.

That is, until he moans, too. I let my subconscious guide me and pull him against me, mashing our mouths together savagely as I dig my nails into his back muscles and pull them down, parallel with his spine. He arches his back and breathes heavily, the rise and fall of his chest uneven.

I feel him fiddling with the button on my jeans as I try and fail to regain some semblance of control over myself.

Just as he manages to get my pants around my ankles and take me in his hand again through my underwear, the pantry-door swings open. I sober up immediately, but it’s just Brian – which is still bad, I guess, but not half as bad as my mom would’ve been.

“Really? REALLY? High school boys now, Josh? You’ve stooped this low?” Brian taunts.

“Fuck off, Brian. I saw you with Alex earlier. Kids always were your type,” Josh hits back.

“So, that’s it, then? You dump me for some tattooed twink basketball player?” The look on Brian’s face is ugly and the adorableness runs out of it. He looks mean and possessive.

“You know, Josh was right. You _are_ a bitch,” I say. “Leave him alone, Brian.”

“You always were immature,” Brian says to Josh before storming out.

I look at Josh – who looks fine. Like none of Brian’s reaction is at all a surprise to him. In fact, he looks relieved and happy.

I kiss him.

He kisses me back, sweetly.

“We should probably get back in there,” he says and bends over to help me back into my pants.

We tidy ourselves up, but Josh’s pressed shirt is now wrinkled beyond immediate saving. I tell him it looks fine nonetheless and we leave the pantry only slightly messier than it was. Thankfully, I also remember the cookies, a pitcher of milk and enough glasses before we go back to the den.

There, we find that Alexa has arrived. She’s leaning on Dr. Gunnulfsen’s makeshift desk and outlining the plan to everyone. She breaks off when she sees Josh.

“Joshua Dun! Look at you! You look so much better than the last time I saw you,” Alexa gushes and gets up to hug Josh.

Josh hugs her back heartily.

“Always a pleasure, Al,” he says.

“Anyway, Alexa, you were saying,” Dr. Gunnulfsen interjects.

I don’t know if I imagine it, but it kind of looks like the doctor is flustered.

“I think we send Jay in with a rope. It should go in the one end and come out the other. This is just to keep you on track, kiddo,” Alexa says and ruffles my little brother’s hair. “It’s actually simple: he goes in, gets Maddie, the two of them help the spirits pass on and then come out this end.”

She points to the burnt spot on the ceiling.

“All I’m really here for is to coax them into letting you out without too much fuss. They may want to take Maddie with them and if they do, she’s gone. You can’t come back once you’ve passed through the light.

“First, though, we’re sending in the rocket with the camera to scout out what it’s like in there.”

As she talks, I notice how heavily scarred her face is. They don’t make her less beautiful, though. In fact, they seem to add to her beauty in a weird, war-survivor sort of way. They make her look stronger and fiercer. What adds to the warrior-look is the fact that she has an undercut, much like the two Dr. Gunnulfsen has, on her left side. She also has a white streak in her fringe that looks much to white to have been dyed. I remember Josh telling me that she’s a medium and look at her eyes to see if I can find the purple. I don’t find it, though, and voice this to Josh.

“The thing about mediums is that they are the bridge between us and the spectral plain. The ideal medium, like Maddie, can see and command spirits – not that Maddie knows how to yet – but Alexa isn’t that gifted. She only got one half of the deal and so her ectoplasmic manifestation is that streak in her hair. It used to be much darker, but that time she almost died was when the spirit of another deceased medium latched itself onto her and tried to drain her of her gift to physically manifest itself. She still has her power, but now she can only communicate with them, where she used to be able to command them,” he explains under his breath.

“That must suck.”

“She’s still fierce as hell, though. You’ll see,” Josh promises.

When Brian has the camera up and running and attached to Jay’s rocket, Jay flies it up to the portal in Maddie’s room. It goes in without a hitch and we are given an inside look at where these spirits are trapped. It’s dark and dead-looking. It’s like I can feel their misery just by watching them struggle towards the light. Suddenly, a familiar face looms up at us from the darkness.

“Maddie!” Mom cries.

“Mommy! You found me,” she says and starts crying.

“We’re coming to get you, sweety,” Dad promises. “Jay’s gonna come find you.”

“No, you can’t! They won’t let me leave until I’ve helped them, but they want me to go with them. I’m so scared,” she sobs.

“No, honey. We have people here that are gonna help you. You’re coming back to us, baby. They won’t take you,” my mom says, tears streaming down her face.

“Mo–”

Static. Blackness.

“Damn it! Something took down my rocket!” Jay shakes the iPad he uses as a controller back and forth and taps the screen fruitlessly.

“No matter. We’ve seen all we needed to. It’s time to go in,” Alexa says and moves towards the stairs.

We all follow.

Maddie’s room is almost entirely unchanged except for the giant, flaming, gaping hole where the back of her closet used to be. Dr. Gunnulfsen hands Alexa the rope and she throws it into the portal, holding tightly to the end. Dad, Brian, Alex, Josh and I all go to help ancor, but the doctor sends me out of the room. Apparently, I’m a ‘life-force for them to latch onto’.

I never get to have any fun.

Instead, Mom, Dr. Gunnulfsen and I decide to go back downstairs to the exit portal. I slip into the room again and kiss Josh’s cheek before leaving after the women.

As we leave, I hear Alexa yell into the portal, “Spirits, your savior requires help. We send reinforcement. I command that you give the one being sent to now safe passage. He is of no threat to you. He simply cares about his sister.”

Then we hear a loud ripping sound and I just know Jay has gone in. In the living room, the rope is protruding from the center of the portal.

Despite my certainty at a positive outcome, my nerves still eat me alive. My mind starts doing the spinning-out-of-control thing again and when I close my eyes to get a handle on it, I see those two red eyes glowing at me from an abyss. I force myself to breathe through my clenching throat and to see through spotty vision. The blurry-faced demon can wait his damn turn.

Alexa comes striding into the room purposefully and I understand what Josh meant about her being fierce despite her waning power.

Looking up at the other portal, she calls, “You cannot keep them! They are just children. Set them free, tortured ones. It is not their time and you cannot rob them of their innocence!”

Then the portal lights up. It burns fiery orange for minutes and I, irrationally, begin to believe that we’re never going to see Jay and Maddie again. What ends up coming out of the portal is the rest of the rope. It drops to the mattress we have set out for the kids. The first down the stairs is Alex, but all the men run in after him safely.

“YOU WILL FREE THEM!” Alexa commands, her voice taking on a weird double timbre, and suddenly the white streak in her hair blazes purple.

She’s standing right beneath the portal, her hands outstretch towards it. She repeats her command one more time and the sound of it imprints itself onto my eardrums forever. A gush of bright, violet light floods into the portal and then it rips open. She manages to step aside just in time to avoid Jay and Maddie falling on her, but they do fall on me. I dive to catch them and end up becoming a living layer of the mattress.

By Alexa’s instruction, we take them upstairs to the bathroom immediately where the bath has been filled with lukewarm water. Mom and Dad start washing Maddie and Jay’s blue faces, murmuring and pleading for them to come back to us. I will them to open their eyes with all the energy I have and almost scream in frustration at not having gotten the Gift of Resurgence instead.

But Jay’s eyes open and he takes a breath.

Next, is Maddie.

Then the vision overcomes me and I run to the portal. Dimly, I register the pounding footsteps behind me and my name being called. All that matters to me is getting to that portal. I even slam the door to Maddie’s room shut behind me.

“IT’S NOT HER FAULT. IT’S NOT HER FAULT. YOU CAN’T HAVE HER BACK. TAKE ME. I’LL HELP YOU. LEAVE MADDIE ALONE!” I scream into the billowing abyss.

From its depths I see a million glowing red eyes coming closer and closer. They come close enough for me to see the outlines of bodies, but no distinct features can be made out. They all have blurry faces. The panic slams into me again and again, but I don’t back down. I’ll take them, go with them, but they won’t have my sister.

_I will be a better brother, better son._

“Alexa, NO!” comes the scream from behind me.

Before I know what’s happening, Alexa throws herself in between me and the spirits all but climbing out of the portal.

“YOU. CAN. NOT. HAVE. THEM!”

A flash of violet.

Gone.

 

“Is there any sign of her?” Dr. Gunnulfsen asks, making no move to stop the tears streaming down her face as she stares desperately at many monitors they have set up outside now.

Brian taps at the screen moodily, Alex at his elbow.

“Nothing, Lynn. I’m sorry,” Josh says and turns to hug her.

She buries her face in his shoulder and her frame wracks with silent sobs.

I feel so torn. Of course it’s great having my family back together and in one piece, but I have never seen anyone as broken as Lyndsey Gunnulfsen is right now. All I can think to do is duck my head and send a quick prayer of peace for both Alexa and the doctor.

“Tyler!” my mom calls and beckons to me.

I join them and we all hug. I vow to make it my mission that Maddie and Jay never have to go through anything like this ever again. I vow to myself and to God to be better, to try harder.

“Josh!” my mom calls to him where he has since finished consoling Lynn.

He walks closer hesitantly. When he’s about a foot away, Mom grabs hold of his arm and pulls him into the hug with us.

“Thank you for saving my kids. Thank you!” she cries at him.

He smiles and lets himself be hugged.

After all the hoo-ha, Dad calls me and Josh aside.

“Tyler, after today and all that this family has been through, all we can really be thankful for is to be together again. We love you, son, and you’ll be a part of this family no matter what. What is also important to me, however, is that my family is a happy one. I see how happy Josh makes you and I have decided to give you my blessing.

“However, and hear me loud and clear Josh Dun, if you break my boy’s heart, I break your bones. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” comes the sheepish, slightly nervous answer.

I jump at my dad and hug tight enough to break a few bones myself. He lets me for the first minute and then starts ‘complaining’ about ‘breathing problems’.

“ALEXA!” sounds up the hoarse, choked scream.

Out of the house, extremely weak and dazed-looking, stumbles Alexa San Roman, looking as much like a warrior queen as she ever has. The previously white streak in her hair is now a bright violet. Lynn jumps her and starts crying even harder and kissing every available inch of her face until they’re both a wet, slobbery mess.

“If you EVER do that again, I will KILL YOU,” Lynn pulls away to threaten.

This has Alexa looking terrified, but the rest of us find the picture pretty comical and laugh.

 

Standing by the van, holding Josh in my arms feels so amazing that I never want it to end. It does eventually, but just long enough for him to decide to kiss me. It’s the sweetest, strongest, most dizzying kiss I’ve ever had and I’m thankful for his arms around me keeping me upright.

There are so many things I want to say to him. I want to thank him in a way that’s different, yet more intense, than the way my family has thanked him. I want to convey in one gesture how much he means to me and how I can’t see myself without him anymore. We survived this together and that means something – something I’d like to commemorate.

As if he’s reading my mind – which he seems to have an uncanny knack for – he soothes my fretful thoughts.

“I love you,” he says, pulling away and looking at me like he’s seeing me for the first time.

I pull him to me again.

“I love you, too,” I whisper in his ear.

This close to the side of his head, I suddenly notice that the hair there isn’t black, like I originally thought, but a dark, blackcurrant purple.


End file.
